


quiet reverence

by ashinan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: There's a quiet beauty to the way Shiro fights, to the way he speaks, to the way he turns into Ulaz's touch.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buttered_onions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/gifts).



> This fic was written for the darling [Lisa Onions](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) who required a bit of a push to get her taxes done this year. I'm quietly drowning in this pairing and it's becoming ridiculous. I can't stop writing soft schmoopy things for them. They're just. So soft. SO SOFT.

Ulaz scrutinizes the training session, Shiro putting the Paladins through simple drills and simple instructions. The ease with which he falls into defensive poses, the cock of his hip and the set of his ankle, divulges a novella of information to the trained eye. Shiro holds back when he’s with his Paladins. He plants his feet to absorb the blows, but never retaliates with even a quarter of the strength he houses. It’s fascinating. The Blades would not allow for such a weakness, beating one down until they could be built up anew. Shiro approaches training the others in a lighter, almost protective manner. Defense over offense. Easy correction over firm reprimand. His coaching leaves the group in high spirits as they end another session, the four Paladins chatting amongst each other as they leave. Shiro lingers, settling his weight on his left foot.

His gaze catches and pins Ulaz in place.

When Ulaz pushes away from the wall, Shiro’s pupils dilate. His chest expands, a quick breath to steady himself, before his stance shifts. The twitch of a shoulder back, the delicate turn of his wrist. A query caught in the upturned tick of his mouth. The achingly familiar lock of his knee. Ulaz mimics the pose, brow raised. Shiro visibly tightens his core. Ulaz ducks his head, bounces up on his toes, and attacks.

Shiro’s fast when he wants to be. Shiro’s smart. He turns aside each of Ulaz’s strikes, ducking and weaving with an elegance that stills the breath in Ulaz’s chest. The momentary lapse doesn’t go unnoticed; Shiro steps in close and nearly catches Ulaz in the stomach, only deterred by Ulaz’s quick reflexes and years of training. Shiro retreats. Ulaz bounds in close, refuses to allow Shiro a moment to calculate, to determine, to plot. The most devastating part of any human battle style - of _Shiro’s_ battle style - is an ability to adapt on the fly. Calculating, cataloguing, adjusting. Always searching for a weakness. Ulaz twists aside a strike meant to stagger him, shoves his shoulder into Shiro’s stomach and tosses him over his shoulder. Shiro catches himself on his Galra hand, body an elegant twist in the air before he falls into a readied crouch. His grin is devastating. The power behind his lunge forward, breathtaking.

They come together and apart. From outside, they’re tearing into each other, each blow landing with precision. Within their confined space, it’s a different kind of dance. Ulaz’s strikes alter depending on Shiro’s reaction; Shiro’s strikes are purely inquisitive in nature, a test of his strength toward a partner that can handle him. A conversation, shared between gasped breaths and fleeting touch. Ulaz twists to the side, catching Shiro’s wrist. Shiro retaliates with a boot to Ulaz’s thigh, shoving off and yanking free of his grasp. Together and apart.

Ulaz turns aside another strike but Shiro changes the tone of the dance, counters instead by planting his foot on the inside of Ulaz’s and shoving his shoulder into Ulaz’s chest. Ulaz’s elbow wrenches back, his body bowing with the force, and Shiro hooks that foot around Ulaz’s ankle and tugs. They fall to the ground, Shiro momentarily on top before Ulaz bucks him off. They tumble and grapple, Shiro biting back a yelp when Ulaz slams him into the floor. Ulaz grunts out a curse when Shiro forces a knee between them, shin digging hard into Ulaz’s stomach. He retaliates by capturing and pinning Shiro’s cybernetic arm to the floor, his other hand catching at Shiro’s curled thigh.

They still.

They’re close, panting hard. Ulaz shakes his mind free of the battle mentality, quickly scanning over Shiro’s features for discomfort. Except where Ulaz expects a firm brush off, he finds Shiro grinning, wide and bright and carefree, relaxing minutely under Ulaz’s weight. There’s no panic in his gaze, no immediate visceral reaction to his being pinned, and Ulaz breathes out a sigh as he presses down just a touch firmer. Shiro wiggles his knee to the side so they slot together easier and Ulaz sinks down with a surprised exhale.

“You got me,” Shiro says, pushing up to bump their noses together. Ulaz flexes his fingers against Shiro’s pinned wrist, startled momentarily at the touch. He was expecting a manoeuvre, something to turn the tables, and instead Shiro rolls his shoulders back. Content. Happy. His smile a breadth from Ulaz’s own confused purse.

“Is this a new tactic?” Ulaz asks.

Shiro blinks, flopping back. Ulaz follows him down, brushing his nose delicately over Shiro’s. The smile flickers back, pleased, and Shiro says, “Nah, just a healthy appreciation for your skills.”

Interesting. “And this?” Ulaz nudges their noses together again, narrowing his eyes when Shiro huffs out a laugh, reaching up with his free hand to thumb at Ulaz’s ear.

“It feels nice.”

“It does,” Ulaz admits. The space between them disappears, Ulaz falling and Shiro shifting to accommodate. The smile remains, the glow in his eyes warm and delighted. Ulaz whispers, “Your smile is beautiful.”

Shiro’s expression blanks, a quick inhalation of surprise, and then his cheeks furiously shade red. Ulaz stares, fascinated, as the flush craws over the bridge of his nose and down the exposed arch of his throat. His pulse flutters. Shiro swallows and his gaze skitters away, off to the side. There’s a brief moment were Ulaz fears he erred, that stating that simple truth has triggered Shiro’s shame. The slight dimple of Shiro’s cheek, the pleased uptick of his lips, belays this worry. Embarrassment then?

Ulaz waits.

When Shiro turns back, blush strong and bright, Ulaz dips his head down to bump their noses together. Affection masked as apology. Shiro tilts into it, humming quietly, and his blush calms. Ulaz runs a single finger over the palm of Shiro’s caught hand, entranced by the ease with which Shiro curls into the touch. Shiro squirms for a moment, thigh tilting against Ulaz’s hip, before he settles. His embarrassment remains, indicated by the splotches of colour still decorating his skin, but his smile has softened.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Shiro murmurs, lashes low over his eyes.

With a quiet reverence, Ulaz corrects, “ _You_ are beautiful.”

The blush cascades over Shiro’s skin. Ulaz delights in following its path down Shiro’s throat, tracing the flushed edges of Shiro’s ears, nuzzling along the warmth of his ruddy cheeks. Shiro murmurs out reluctances, though his trembling smile dispels any worries that Ulaz housed over speaking such truths. With a pleased hum, he repeats the phrase. Shiro squirms. Repeating it a third time causes Shiro to shove at his chest, laughing, blushing furiously.

Ulaz settles back down, fingers tracing nonsense patterns against Shiro’s captured palm. Shiro tucks their noses close together again, his skin warm. His eyes close. Ulaz memorizes the delicate fan of lashes against blushed cheeks.

He wonders, fleetingly, what cosmic favour he has gained to be worthy of _this_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com) where I'm crying about Voltron and drowning in rarepair hell.


End file.
